Horse and boy took a sharp turn to the left and plunged down a steep slope. Hart followed. They splashed through a soggy patch, green and weedy.

Mud from the stallion’s hooves splashed in Hart’s face. He didn’t bother to wipe it off. The boy’s determination to avoid him was annoying, but the chase itself was exhilarating.

They headed back up a hill. The stallion pulled steadily away and made for a densely forested area. He was stronger and faster than Hart’s mount, and with the lighter weight of the boy, Hart didn’t have a chance.

“Stop, damn you! I only want to talk,” Hart yelled in frustration.

At the edge of the trees, the boy looked back. Hart caught a flash of white teeth as the lad gave what might have been a cheeky wave or—Hart narrowed his gaze—a rude gesture. As the boy and horse disappeared from sight, a light laugh floated back to him on the breeze.

Swearing to himself, Hart rode slowly back to where Sinc was waiting, hunched gloomily on his horse.

“Have fun, did you? I’m just about frozen solid. Though naturally, being your oldest friend, I’m only too delighted to become an ice block in your service.”

Hart ignored the sarcasm. “Little mongrel refused to stop. All I wanted was the name of the owner.”

“Is that all? Well, you could have asked me. Would have saved you all that gallivanting about. And me from turning into an icicle. You do know your face is spattered with mud, I suppose. As for your boots . . .” Sinc shuddered.

“What? You know who owns that horse? Who is it?”

“Forgotten your handkerchief?” Sinc scrutinized his friend’s face. “I have a spare if you need to use it. Can’t be seen with mud on your face.”

Frustrated, Hart pulled out a handkerchief and scrubbed at his face. “There! Now, who owns that damned horse?”

“You missed a bit. Just here,” Sinc said, gesturing to his own face.

Hart rubbed at the spot indicated. “Now, before I strangle you, tell me who owns that blasted stallion.”

“Oh, she won’t sell,” Sinc said.

“She? You mean the owner is a woman?” Fool woman, to entrust such a valuable and spirited animal to a mere youth. Though he had to admit the boy could ride. Superbly, as it happened. When he bought the stallion, he might even offer the lad a job.

“Yes, of course. Didn’t you know?”

“How would I know?” He blinked. “Are you suggesting that I’m acquainted with the owner? Who is she? Where might I find her?”

Sinc gave him an odd, amused look, then jerked his chin to where the stallion and his rider had disappeared. “You just saw her.”

Hart looked, but he could see no woman. “Where?”

“On the horse’s back. Leading you a right merry chase by the looks of it.”